Tears at Midnight

I got out of the car with swollen eyes and no destination in mind.

Without realizing it, I found myself back at the old house where I'd grown up.

I climbed the damp, weathered wooden stairs. Just as I reached for the door, a familiar voice stopped me in my tracks.

"Marcel, why did you push me away? You know I've always loved you!"

"That was a mistake! As long as Cedric is happy, nothing else matters to me!"

"Really? Then why did you sneak back here in secret if nothing matters?"

The argument came to an abrupt halt.

Through the narrow gap in the door, my tear-blurred eyes took in the scene inside.

White wedding ribbons were draped across the windows.

A handmade patchwork wedding quilt covered the bed.

Scattered across the floor were dried flower petals and keepsakes my mother had prepared for my future marriage.

Everything in the room had been prepared for a newlywed couple starting their lives together—if those things hadn't belonged to my mother.

My mother had crafted those decorations herself before she died. She'd spent two years undergoing chemotherapy while painstakingly sewing that quilt. She'd carefully chosen every wedding memento herself before she passed away.

"Cedric... Delilah, Marcel, after I'm gone... please take care of Cedric..."

Back then, lying in her hospital bed, my mother had used the last of her strength to wrap our hands together with a rosary.

Through tears, they promised they would never betray her final wish.

Sadly, the woman I loved most and my best friend had already become a couple in every way that mattered beneath my mother's portrait.

Even the rosary hanging by the bed had been torn apart during one of their encounters, its beads scattered across the floor.

"You keep saying all you want is for Cedric to be happy. What about me?

"When I planned surprises for him, I wasn't thinking about how happy he'd be. I was thinking about finally seeing you again. When he was hospitalized, I worried about him, but I was even more excited that I'd get to spend time alone with you. When I accompanied him to your performances, I looked calm on the outside, but I spent an entire afternoon choosing flowers.

"Call this a mistake if you want, but in my heart, you're the one who's truly my husband." Delilah's voice broke as tears filled her eyes.

Marcel stared at her. Then, unable to hold back any longer, he pulled her tightly into his arms.

"I never wanted things to end up like this. I really didn't..." Tears streamed down his face.

Clenching my teeth so hard they hurt, I fled as though I were the one who'd done something wrong.

The wind roared in my ears, trying to drown everything out, but only I knew just how deafening the pain in my heart truly was.

I kept running and running, until the emptiness in my stomach twisted into unbearable cramps under the weight of my emotions.

"Sir, a bowl of stew, please."

Cold sweat beaded across my forehead as I staggered into a restaurant.

When the owner brought over the bowl, his eyes lit up with surprise. "Well, if it isn't Cedric! Where are your two guardians today?"

I looked up weakly and recognized the familiar face.

The owner didn't notice anything unusual. Still smiling, he handed me a pair of cutlery.

"Remember the old shop? You three used to come every week for beef stew. Those two kids were always fighting over who got to pick the beef out of their bowls for you.

"One worried you wouldn't grow tall enough. The other worried you wouldn't gain enough weight. Now look at you—all grown up."

More customers arrived, and the owner hurried off to greet them.

I fought to hold back my sobs as I shoveled stew into my mouth between tears.

Through the rising steam, I could almost see the two kids again, always worrying about me.

"Slow down! What if you burn yourself?" Delilah shot me a reproachful look, snatched away my bowl, and patiently blew on the stew.

"Your stomach's already bad enough. And now you're practically drinking tears. Who the hell bullied you this time? Tell me. I'll beat them into the ground." Marcel handed me a napkin. When I refused to answer, he grew so anxious he didn't know what to do.

I stared blankly at the scene before me, wishing I could stay in this moment forever.

Sadly, all it took was one cold gust of reality. The steam disappeared, and so did they.

I set down my cutlery and sat there for a long time.

Then a text message arrived from Human Resources.

[Your application to Europe has been approved. Departure is scheduled for two days from now. Please make the necessary preparations.]

I replied with a single word: [Okay.]

Then I paid my bill.

I left without disturbing the owner, just as I couldn't bear to disturb those memories from years ago.

Standing alone at the fork in the road, I turned back for one final look at the old house.

A faint smile tugged at my lips.

This is where it ends.